


South Dakota and Snow Angels

by Ageless_Daughter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Self-Hatred, Snow, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:38:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2882861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ageless_Daughter/pseuds/Ageless_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are cooped up in a cabin in the dead of winter, and when John tells them to go outside, they jump at the chance. It's the most fun they've had in too long, until Dean makes a mistake. One that has a single solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	South Dakota and Snow Angels

“Why don’t you boys do something useful?” John asks from the dining room table, scouring the articles and journal entries Bobby sent him in the mail.

“Like what, dad?” Sam scowls, rolling his eyes as cartoons flicker through the static on the TV. Dean slaps his arm and shoots him a look before making a quick recovery for the both of them.

“What Sam means is, we already cleaned the guns and picked up the house, and we even ran into town to do the laundry last night while you were… out.” Out cold, he wants to stay.

“Well it’s not doing you any good to stare at the God damned TV set, ‘specially when you can’t hardly see it in the first place. Why don’t you go outside and take a run or something? Practice some of the new attacks I taught you.” John takes a sip of his black coffee and when the silence draws out too long, he gives Dean a glare over the top of the leather bound book he’s reading. 

“Go on!”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says and stands.

“Oh, come on!” Sam crosses his arms and blows his bangs out of his eyes. “It’s, like, ten below zero out! What do you expect us to –”

“Sammy,” Dean says loudly and turns towards his brother, “it’ll be fun. When was the last time we got to play in the snow?”

And then he winks. He winks right at Sam, and there’s no way he can say no to Dean when his stomach is trying to jump out of his throat like that.

“O-okay.” Sam smiles before rushing to stand and following his brother into their shared bedroom on the other end of the tiny cabin. Creaky floorboards bend under their feet, cold through the stained carpet. A pair of long johns and two sweatshirts hit Sam in the chest as he turns around from closing the door, Dean already half changed into the Winchester version of a snow suit.

Grabbing at the button on his jeans, Sam is suddenly excited for this, to have a day of laughs and snowball fights and maybe sledding if they can get their hands on an old garbage can lid. Dean catches his smile and feels one bloom onto his own face, seeing Sammy happy after so long. Sam’s dimples are just peeking out, and Dean wishes to see them how they used to be, wishes the way he’d wish dad would stop drinking, wishes the way he’d wish there was more he could do for their family.

Sam’s got his pants unbuttoned and he starts taking off his Bad Compant t-shirt, one of Dean’s old ones, pulling it over his head. While his head is trapped in the soft black fabric, Dean lets himself stare. Sammy’s really grown up within the past year, transforming from a skinny, knobby kneed kid into this warm, long teenager. Still not looking like a man, but surely not like the little boy Dean had kept himself away from.

Then Sam’s face is back, smile blinding again, and Dean forces himself to look away, over at the flowery wallpaper. Dean finishes changing and digs through both of their bags for hats and gloves. The next thing he knows, Sam’s tackling him to the ground, laughing and almost pinning him. But while Sam’s giggling, Dean gets a hand on his wrist and flips them, slamming Sam into the floor, one arm pressed into the carpet above his head.

“Nice try, Sammy boy.” Dean grins and squeezes Sam’s wrists. Sam just keeps smiling, his chest heaving with the aftermath of his laughter. He sighs, letting his lead lull to one side with another short laugh, and he looks… wrecked. His face is red and he’s breathing hard, and his clothes are all pushed up. Dean swallows around the words in his throat and stands up quicker than you can say “unrequited,” grabbing the hats and gloves from the bed.

Sam looks up at Dean and frowns. Guess that he shouldn’t have taken it that far.

“Alright, let’s go, then,” Sam says and pulls on a green striped hat. He makes sure to keep his smile on, even though he feels bad for taking the touching too far just now. Dean needs to know that he’s having fun. That he’s okay.

It’s not actually ten degrees below zero, it’s more like a few below freezing actually, so they’re not that cold, even in what they’re wearing. There’s about three feet of snow all over the front yard, sparkling in the afternoon sun and it’s fluffy and perfect. Sam gallops down off the front porch, sending flakes flying up into the breeze, disturbing the perfect white surface. Dean smiles and jumps out after him, chasing his brother in the freezing cold. They mess around, tracing patterns in the white as they chase after one another, before they tire out and Sam lays down. He makes a snow angel, flapping his too long arms up and down, plowing out wings in the snow. Dean laughs and wishes he had a camera, because Sam looks so full of joy and carefree. It would be nice if he could remember this forever. Maybe he will.

“Dean, you, too. Come on!” Sam laughs and motions to the patch of untouched snow beside him. Dean hesitates, wanting to watch for a little longer, but gives in anyway. How could he not? He walks over and plants is feet, facing away from Sam, and then falls back into the snow, sending it up into the air. He laughs and starts pushing his arms and legs back and forth.

Sam watches his brother, looks at the snow caught in his long eyelashes, his hair sticking out a little under the edge of his reindeer hat. He looks too handsome, like he’s already a snow angel, all on his own. On another laugh, Dean pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration, wanting to make the most badass snow angel this winter has ever seen. Subconsciously, Sam feels himself biting his own in mirror. When Dean’s done, he looks over at Sam and smiles, his breathing slightly labored from the work. Sam sniffles and smiles back, just happy to be here, lying next to Dean, like he hardly gets to do anymore.

After a few long, but still too short, minutes, Dean calls for a snowball fight. They take position on opposite sides of the yard and Dean rattles off some bullshit rules that they’re both going to break, and calls “GO!” Then all Hell breaks loose. Sam takes a snowball right to the jaw, and gets Dean back with an icy one to the knee. Snow is flying everywhere, screams and battle cries echoing off the trees and the cabin. John comes out and gets a few hits to the back before he plows the Impala out of the half-shoveled driveway. It’s got to be the most fun they’ve had in years. After calling a truce that gets broken twice, they decide to build a snowman. They collect sticks to give it arms, stones for eyes and a mouth, and not wanting to waste a carrot, they use a pinecone for its nose.

“He’s pretty ugly,” Sam says when they’re finished.

“I agree. Hey, we should name him Sam! HA!” Dean screams and then runs away immediately, anticipating a tackle at any moment. Instead, he hears a regretfully empty silence, then Sam stomping through the snow, before the deafening slam of the front door.

Shit.

Dean feels his heart pound, his head spinning. They’d been having so much fun, he thought a joke wouldn’t be out of hand. Oh, what the fuck was he thinking? What the FUCK? God damn it, why did he do that, why would he say that to Sam, he KNOWS Sam has been weird about puberty… But why? Fuck, it doesn’t matter, what did he just do? Why did he do that?!

“Sammy!” Dean yells and runs as fast as he can to the house, sprinting inside and not caring about the mess he’s making. Sam’s probably crying in their room. Dean runs down the hall and pushes the door open.

But Sam’s not crying. He’s standing. Looking at himself in the mirror, only in his briefs now, even though the house is chilly. He’s running his hands all over his winter pale skin, pinching and pulling and poking at parts of himself like he wants to tear them off. He’s got a completely blank look on his face, like he doesn’t care. But Dean knows he does care. Dean knows something is really wrong.

“Sammy, are you okay?”

Sam looks over at Dean and blinks, dropping his hands to his sides. Almost immediately, he looks back in the mirror and sighs, his entire body falling like someone snipped his puppet strings.

“I know you meant it. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to apologize. I already knew. I just didn’t think you would –”

“Sammy.” Dean cuts him off and takes one step forward, not wanting to go too far. “Sam, shut up. I didn’t mean it, and you know it. Come on, I was just joking around. You know how I say stuff I don’t mean.”

“No, really, Dean,” Sam whispers and stares at his face in the mirror. He reaches up to push his bangs out of his face and then grimaces, letting the hair fall back down. “You don’t have to cover it up. I know it’s the truth. I’m disgusting. I’m ugly and stupid and gross and now you just proved it to me.”

“No, Sam. Stop.”

Sam flinches when he feels the hand on his shoulder, trying to pull away. Warmth seeps into Dean’s palm from his brother’s body and it gives him chills, touching that bare skin. Winter sunlight from outside shines onto one side of Sam’s face when he’s turned towards Dean, and his breath catches. How could Sam ever think himself ugly? His cheeks are ruddy from the cold, his hair is curling around his ears, soft like nothing else, and his slanted fox eyes glint gold in the sun. He’s so beautiful like this it physically hurts Dean to think that he could hate that face. 

“Listen to me, Sam. Listen. You’re not disgusting. You’re not ugly, you’re not any of those things you just said. Those are lies, you hear me? And I don’t know who told you they were true, but if I ever find out, God help me I will beat them into the dirt until they know the true meaning of an ugly face.”

“Dean –”

“No, I’m not done. If you hear anything I’m saying this whole time, there’s one thing that you should really hold onto. You’re… Fuck, Sammy. You’re…”

“See?” Sam yells and pushes out of Dean’s grip, backing himself away until he hits the wall behind him. “You can’t deny it! You know I’d be able to tell that you’re lying so you can’t even tell me any different! It doesn’t even matter anyway, I know I’m screwed up, I couldn’t possibly hope that you’d actually…”

Heart pounding, Dean closes the distance between Sam and himself. He never thought there would be a day where he should tell Sam just how much he loves him. But here he is, standing in a chilly bedroom somewhere in South Dakota, with his half naked little brother pressed against the wall. And Sam’s staring at him, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment, but Dean knows now. He knows what Sam almost said. He never thought he'd tell Sam his secret because he never thought Sam would feel the same.

Wind makes the house creak, Sam shivering against Dean’s warmth. Nerves and misplaced excitement climb into Sam’s throat and his fingers flex against the wallpaper. Denim teases at the skin on his thighs as Dean shifts, his eyes full of softening anger, fear and something else. He’s standing so close and he smells so good and this can’t possibly be happening. Dean can’t actually…

“Actually what, Sam? Actually tell you how gorgeous you are? That I think you’re going to be the tallest, most stunning man in another year? Actually let myself touch you? Like I’ve had to stop myself from doing lately because I’m afraid of how you’ll react? Actually show you there's no one I’ve looked at in years? Because there’s only one person I think about when I’m touching myself, Sammy. Only one. And he’s the most handsome, good looking, adorable geek I’ve ever seen. And, as I’ve just learned, he doesn’t have a clue.”

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Dean?”

With a short laugh and a roll of his eyes, Dean lets himself finally do what he's wanted to for what feels like forever. He rests his hands on Sam’s hips and slides them up onto Sam’s stomach, over his ribs, letting his fingers brush over pink nipples, hard in the cold.

“Oh, fuck, Sammy. I can’t believe I'm doing this. Wanted to touch for so long. You’re so perfect.”

“You think I’m perfect, Dean?” Sam says on a shaky exhale, his head falling to one side as Dean’s palm slides over his collarbone.

“Every part.”

Sam whines and digs his fingernails into the wall, not wanting to disturb what’s happening. Like if he moves at all, this dream will end, or he’ll make Dean realize this is a mistake. He's forced to change his mind when Dean lets out a frustrated groan and puts more of his weight against his little brother.

“Put your hands on me, Sammy. Need to know.”

“I do, Dean. I want you,” Sam says into Dean’s neck, his lips sticking to sweat and melted snow. He licks at the moisture and it tastes like heaven, better than he could have imagined. One hand tangles its way into the fabric of Dean’s shirt and the other slides underneath, feeling hot, shaking muscles. Dean groans again and presses even closer, the zipper on his jeans making an imprint on Sam’s hip. Heat begs through the fabric and Sam gasps when he realizes he can feel the shape of Dean’s cock nudging impatiently at his skin. A blush prickles up his chest at the thought; he made Dean hard. He made Dean this grunting, panting animal.

“Sam, Sam,” Dean murmurs between breaths, “I need… Sam, you…”

Sam smiles and hides his face in Dean’s shoulder as he nervously takes his hand out of Dean’s shirt and slips his fingers into the waistband of his pants. Sam has never touched another guy before, never touched anyone, so his heart is pounding with arousal as well as fear.

“Ah, Sammy. Sam,” Dean breathes and bites at Sam’s ear before he takes his hands from Sam’s shoulders and wraps one around Sam’s wrist. He urges Sam on while he shoves his own hand behind Sam’s back and into his briefs.

“Dean!” Sam shouts and doesn’t know if he likes this until he feels Dean’s fingertips just barely touch his hole. “Oh, fuck! Dean, oh god, please.”

Dean sounds like a dying man as he licks at Sam’s shoulder, grunting and gasping for air, crushing himself into Sam’s inexperienced hand. He pushes harder and Sam’s ass, until just the tip of his middle finger slips in dry and Sam’s screaming and seizing against him, grabbing harder at Dean’s dripping cock until it’s too much. Dean slams his other hand against the wall and comes, shaking against his little brother’s chest.

They both pant and moan softly until the room falls quiet. Dean pulls his hand out of Sam’s underwear and Sam hurries to do the same, even though he doesn’t want to stop feeling Dean’s cock against his palm. Dean shifts back just far enough to look at Sam, searching for any of the self hate or sadness he saw before. Instead he finds a shy smile and red lips.

“God damn.” Dean smiles back and then leans in to kiss his brother for the first time.

And surely not the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you liked this, and check out my other fics if you have the time!!!
> 
> (Comments make me really REALLY happy. FYI.)


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